Silver Snow
by Celestial Embers
Summary: A series of short stories featuring the various characters residing in Garreg Mach Monastery, and how they react to their dear professor. An attempt to flesh out their thoughts and emotions, and perhaps even provide a few much-needed answers here and there.
1. Chapter 1

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 1: Guilt**_

* * *

Like a knife stabbing into her heart, Archbishop Rhea experienced yet another pang of guilt. Each time, it would take slightly longer before Seiros replaced that guilt with eager anticipation.

Upon her desk stood a small statue of the goddess, and she knew exactly from whom it came.

The academy's newest professor was a very strange, if kind person. He would go out of his way to brighten everyone's day, be they a student or member of the faculty. While under no obligation to do anything more than teach, he would nevertheless listen to their troubles over lunch or tea, and aid them in any other way they required.

On slightly rarer occasions, he had even been spotted leaving small gifts for people throughout the monastery.

Rhea took the statuette gently into her hands, admiring the craftsmanship. The artisan had clearly spent many a day and night sculpting it, and must have been quite the devout believer to pour such love into their creation.

While it looked nothing like the mother she recalled, Rhea nevertheless held it tightly against her chest. As it so often did, her guilty heart ached with longing.

"Lady Rhea, are you unwell?"

Seteth's stern yet concerned voice reached her ears, and Rhea shook her head, setting the statuette back down on her desk.

It was only then that she noticed the tiny tear trickling down her cheek, and hurried to wipe it clean with the sleeve of her robe. Much to her dismay, Seteth only seemed to grow more concerned; his strict features softening and giving way to worry.

"I am fine, truly." she insisted. "It is just-"

"You are thinking of the boy again, are you not?"

Rhea could only nod, knowing there was no point in hiding the obvious. In one way or another, the professor had occupied nearly every moment of her waking thoughts.

"Oh, Cichol!" she cried, ignoring the widening of Seteth's eyes as he nervously glanced over his shoulders.

"Am I doing the right thing? Are there perhaps certain things that are... simply too much to ask for?"

"I believe that is something only you can answer, Lady Rhea." he replied, after a rather long and deafening silence.

"If it brings you any peace of mind, however…" continued Seteth, "I do not believe the boy would hold your wishes against you."

Rhea was unsure of whether that eased her pain, or merely deepened it further.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 2: Praise**_

* * *

Stowing away under one of the tables in the mess hall, a tiny figure did her best to hide from view. Her only barrier between life and death was a tiny book, which she clutched onto for dear life, hoping that it would conceal her features from any potential predators.

It was only yesterday that Petra had compared her to prey, after all.

"Ah, Miss Varley. There you are."

"Eep!" shrieked Bernadetta in response. She had failed, and now she would meet her untimely end at the hands of whichever demon had found her.

"Forgive me for intruding upon your leisure time like this, but I was hoping to discuss your assignment before the end of the month."

"Ack!" she yelped, refusing to meet Death's cruel gaze. The words barely registered in her mind, but the coldness and sheer apathy behind them could only belong to a veritable demon.

"No! Begone, foul beast! I'm too young to die-e-e-e!"

With that exclamation, the girl proceeded to place the book on top of her head, curling up and making herself as small as possible. If she could not see the demon, then surely, it could not see her either.

"Nyah!" she squealed, when suddenly a dull thud resounded in her vicinity.

This was it, Bernadetta told herself. Death was about to perform the deed, raising whatever horrific and unspeakably evil weapon it had at its disposal. In mere seconds, she would be cut down, and the miserable life-form known as Bernie would cease to exist.

Instead, an exquisite aroma assaulted her senses.

"Would you care for some lunch?"

Against her better judgment, Bernadetta slowly peered between the pages of her book. She was not yet dead, and her stomach growled from the sudden scent.

Her professor stared at her blankly; his eyes portraying no more emotion than any other day of the week. The corner of his lips, however, were twisted upward ever-so-slightly. It was the first time she had seen him smile, and for some reason, it filled her heart with warmth.

And then, in an instant, the moment was ruined. With widening eyes, she remembered her previous behavior. Her outbursts, her suspicions, her damnations and her actions.

"Aaaaaaaargh!" she screamed, immediately growing beet red in the face. "I'm sorry, Professor! I didn't mean it, I don't know what I was thinking! Please don't kill me-e-e-e!"

In response, Professor Eisner placed a steaming bowl of food in front of her crouching form. He then sat down next to her, and began to dig into his own portion.

The sheer absurdity of the situation hit her only hours later, when she realized her professor had shared a meal with her on the floor, underneath a table, in full view of tens of other students.

"Now, where was I..." he began. "Oh, yes. Your assignment. Good work, Miss Varley. Your archery skills are improving at a remarkable rate."

Stunned into silence, Bernadetta hoped the hotness in her face was not as visible as she feared. Professor Eisner, oblivious to her internal struggle, seemed to ponder something for a while, before his lips twitched once more.

"I'm proud of you."

That night, for the first time in years, Bernadetta fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Silver Snow_**

**_Chapter 3: Worth_**

* * *

Kronya ran.

She ran as fast as she could, not daring to look back. Looking back would mean to face those ungodly eyes again.

During her stay in the monastery, while she still wore her disguise, Kronya's interactions with Professor Eisner had been severely limited. She had only really heard mention of him in passing, and not exchanged more than a few words with him at a time.

Each time, however, she had been forced to look into his eyes, and wished nothing more than to see them broken.

Eventually - less than a month ago - she had finally done so, pleased to know that she was responsible for their appearance. It had made her giddy inside; ready to erupt with bubbly laughter. Pain and torment were what she lived for, and inflicting them upon other, lesser beings was oh-so enticing.

Now, the mere thought of those emotionless eyes sent a shudder down her spine. They frightened her so much that she even lost her footing, failing to notice the thick root of a tree, and tumbled painfully to the ground.

Were it not for her training, Kronya would have landed in an unceremonious heap. Indeed, it was only her ingrained skill that had her twist and flip, landing on all fours before hurrying back to her feet.

Her heart was beating rapidly, almost painfully so, as though threatening to burst out of her chest. Her breathing was labored, despite the relatively short sprint – one that would have posed no challenge in any other occasion.

With no remaining options, Kronya could only raise her head, clutching a dagger tightly in her hand.

She instantly wished she had not done so.

The professor approached her slowly; his every step echoing with a clear purpose. She lifted her dagger higher in response, and noticed that her arm was trembling.

The realization that she was scared shook Kronya far more, and far deeper, than anything else ever had.

"But how?" she whispered. "How could I really lose… to a lowly creature like you?!"

The last few words escaped her lips in an incredulous, defeated tone. She was about to die at the hands of a primitive beast, utterly helpless to resist.

A primitive beast that did not even deign to face her with anger or hatred in his eyes. There was no glint of revenge, nor was there sadness. No pleasure at having a foe at his mercy. Even the previously cold and broken gaze was nowhere to be found.

It was as though she meant nothing to him, less than even a bug to be squashed beneath his boot, and it terrified her.

"Well…"

An old, deep and gravelly voice spoke, almost mockingly, from somewhere behind her. However, it was familiar, and Kronya felt her shoulders slump in relief.

"Solon!" she breathed gratefully, before noticing that the mage made no move to protect her.

"Don't just stand there!" she exclaimed. "I need your help!"

Solon chuckled, clearly amused at her predicament. The old man had not seen what she had seen. He did not know how it felt to meet the professor's eyes; to have his entire worth assessed in an instant, only to be found lacking.

"Oh, yes… You most certainly do."

Something prickled in the very back of Kronya's mind, and an entirely new unease welled up inside her. There was something ominous about the way Solon had uttered those words.

"Huh?" she managed to ask, turning slightly, only to find a fist lodged inside her chest.

The next few seconds became a blur; her entire world transformed into one of pain. The torture seemed to go on forever, when suddenly, a horrible, squelching sound coincided with Kronya's body hitting the cold, stone structure below.

And then, once more, she saw the eyes.

Eyes which stared straight through her, even as the person they belonged to struggled against the darkest of magics. Eyes which refused to acknowledge her existence, even in her final moments.

Ironically, it was only in her final moments that Kronya understood just how apt the professor's treatment of her truly was.

She was indeed nothing.

To her enemies, she was but a despicable monster; a piece of trash. To her allies, she was but a tool to be disposed of at the right moment. In life, she had been worthless, and in death, worth only slightly more.

It made Kronya rethink every supposed event in her life, and as those very scenes flashed before her eyes, she wondered just how many of them had been genuine.

"Please… help me…" she begged, using every last drop of energy she still possessed to reach out for the professor.

She did not want him to save her - not even now would she dare entertain such a futile notion.

All she wanted was for him to see her. To remember her. To know that she had finally repented. To help her feel worth something – _anything_.

But the eyes merely kept staring through her, and with a final, raspy breath, Kronya died, whisked away to a world of nothingness.

Never to be seen or heard from again.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Silver Snow_**

**_Chapter 4: Flop_**

* * *

"Meow."

Flayn eyed the small, fluffy animal with indignant rage.

The furry, feline monstrosity that had the nerve to steal her prize.

The abominable _cat_ which continued to humiliate her; mocking her with its gleaming eyes and falsely innocent mewls.

"Give it back!" she growled, doing her utmost to sound as dangerous and threatening as possible. A few students shook their heads and giggled, which only added to Flayn's humiliation. Were it not for her pride, she would have surely ran to Seteth for consolation.

"Nya-ya-ya!"

A laugh.

Flayn's eyes widened. There was no mistaking it. The cat had actually dared to laugh at her.

"Oh, that's it, you little beast!" she cried, and threw herself at the cat, fully intent on exacting her revenge. She may not look it, but she was a nabatean, and Flayn had no intention of continuing to suffer such disgrace.

She had already visualized her triumphant victory; reclaiming her prize from the horrid beast's blasphemous jaws, whereupon she would make it learn the error of its ways. The plan was fool-proof.

However, as she was about to learn, things rarely go as expected.

The cat nimbly leapt out of her reach, and with a yelp of suprise, Flayn was sent sprawling, now headed for a collision course with the monastery's solid pavement.

"Oof!" she exclaimed; the air rushing out of her chest as she hit the ground. Tears were already welling up in her eyes, and the soft, derisive taps of her tormentor only served to make matters worse.

Then, suddenly, they stopped, and Flayn was met with the sight of a fish, dangling before her face in a most taunting and vexing manner. Its scales glimmered in the sunlight, which in turn was reflected by the neighboring fishing pond.

It was _her _fish.

The fish that had taken all day to catch. The fish she had spent countless hours attempting to bait, only for it to be snatched out of her hands mere seconds after reeling it in.

Her proud, joyous and celebratory moment, gone in an instant.

"Noooo..." she wailed, when the cat let out a final, haughty sound, and walked away.

With the last spark of spirit leaving her, Flayn allowed her head to sink to the ground, where she spent the next few minutes sobbing wistfully. Without a doubt, this day would come to be remembered as one of the worst in her life.

"Miss Flayn. I've been meaning to see you."

She opened a single eye, and immediately blushed in shame. Professor Eisner gazed down upon her dispassionately; his thoughts and emotions impossible to decipher. The Goddess must have been feeling ironic and cruel today, she thought.

To think that only recently, she had been boasting about her maturity to the very person standing in front of her. She managed to stammer out a half-hearted greeting, too defeated to stand on her feet, but thankfully the professor did not speak out on her situation.

"I've recently conversed with Seteth, and he has requested that I make sure no unsolicited actions are taken toward you."

It took some time for the statement to sink in, but once it did, Flayn flushed harder than ever before.

"As such, I feel it would be prudent for me to accompany you throughout the monastery when outside of class."

Once she had built up enough courage to show her face in public again, she vowed to chew her brother out to such an extent that he would regret his own birth.

"Unless you have a different suggestion, would you like to join me for a spot of fishing? The spoils would fall to you, of course. I happen to have... overstocked in the last few days, but the sport itself is still rather relaxing."

Or perhaps, thought Flayn, not _that_ harshly.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 5: Enlightenment**_

* * *

Rhea let out a soft, thoughtful hum, feeling the soft, silken fabric between her fingertips. With a rustle, she brought the garment up and around, inspecting her latest handiwork.

Yes, she mused. It would do nicely.

It had been a long time since the archbishop did anything so trivial as sewing. In favor of her other duties, resigning herself to such a mundane chore would be considered beneath her. Moreso in the opinion of the masses, rather than her own, but it was sadly not a notion within her power to change.

Yet, in this instance, Rhea had found her reprieve. She had found a reason to sit back, losing herself in the surprising pleasure of serene and unstressful work. And best of all, she thought with a very hidden hint of mischief, no one would be able to hold it against her.

After all, properly outfitting the one chosen by the Goddess was the holiest of duties.

Her ancient heart skipped a beat as she recalled Professor Eisner's triumphant return – his father avenged, and he himself blessed with Sothis' divine power. Truly, her dear child had gone above and beyond in his pursuit of righteousness.

She could think of no person more worthy.

"Lost in thoughts?" asked a monotone voice, and Rhea could not help but jump ever so slightly. She smiled, however, noticing who it was that had snuck up behind her.

"Indeed." she confirmed, turning around to face the object of her fascination. "And all alone, or so I had believed. You have a certain talent for catching people by surprise, Professor."

Rhea shook her head. The audience chamber could become such a cold and lonely place.

"Nevertheless, I am grateful that you could find the time to come and visit me."

"Of course, Rhea."

The moment the words left his lips, something deep within her fluttered to life. Rhea did not believe she would ever grow tired of hearing the professor utter her name.

She took a step toward him, growing amused when he remained perfectly still. Raising her hands, Rhea held out the robe she had crafted in front of him. Her fingers brushed lightly against his shoulders, even if neither of them would show any reaction to the contact.

"I see." said the professor suddenly; his eyes alight with understanding. Rhea tilted her head questioningly, and he continued.

"Miss Goneril has been… pestering me for the last few weeks. She has, quite unrelentingly, demanded to know my measurements for her up-and-coming fashion outlet."

Rhea stared into his now verdant eyes, and blinked.

"I always suspected she had been up to something, but following Professor Casagranda's lamentations about her lazy behavior and unwillingness to study, I figured acquiescing to her request might prove beneficial in the long run."

She blinked again, only this time with an impending sensation of dread. Hilda was supposed to have been discreet about it.

Professor Eisner's lips twitched, almost enough to form a tiny smile.

"You could have simply asked me, Rhea."

The archbishop could feel her face heating up, and she broke his gaze with a cough.

"Be that as it may, Professor, there are still certain rules and regulations to be followed. It is hardly befitting of me to ask a colleague for the size of their clothing."

Mercifully, he seemed to accept her meager excuse, and nodded. In the ensuing silence, Rhea began to neatly fold the robe together, making sure to wrinkle it as little as possible. She had spent countless hours working on it, and it would be a shame to see the extravagant set of clothes marred by petty negligence.

She held out her hands, finally presenting her gift to the professor. It was strange, she thought, how the fluttering in her stomach returned while she awaited his response.

The influence he held over her was, in all honesty, rather frightening. Especially considering how many other, far more serious matters still awaited his judgment. Once more, Rhea wished dearly that he would not come to hate her for her actions.

"Colorful."

"What?" she instinctively replied, feeling more ineloquent than she had in a long time.

"I'm used to wearing black, so this will be quite the change." he clarified, before a true, honest-to-goodness smile spread out across his face.

"Thank you, Rhea."

The fluttering she had expected to disappear increased tenfold, and the otherwise composed archbishop clasped her hands underneath her chin.

How truly wonderful he was, her enlightened one.

"I… I am glad." she whispered.

The professor then excused himself; the soft sound of his footsteps echoing as he exited the audience chamber.

Just before he left, however, Rhea called out for him. There was still one thing on her mind – something that had been left unanswered since their last conversation.

"Have you thought about it?" she asked. "How you feel when you walk these halls…"

The professor paused mid-step, and lowered his head as though in contemplation.

"Nothing." he muttered mutedly, confirming yet another of her fears. Although, strangely, Rhea found that it bothered her less than she expected it to.

"There is something else, however."

Her breath hitched; a lump forming in her throat.

"Oh?"

"I've noticed something. A feeling… an urge to protect… to cherish."

The professor grew hesitant, showing a split-second of indecision, before turning to face her fully. What he said would leave her crying tears of joy and sadness for the rest of the evening.

"It comes to me whenever I look at you."


	6. Chapter 6

**_Silver Snow_**

**_Chapter 6: Loss_**

* * *

Leonie rubbed her temples, tugging at a few strands of her short, red hair. Whereas it was usually frizzy, it now lay flat against her head, damp and sticky from the pouring rain.

It was unlike her to stalk the monastery at night, outside of a few spontaneous training sessions whenever sleep eluded her. If only she could be a little more like Linhardt, she thought, before immediately dismissing the notion.

That was no way for Jeralt's apprentice to be thinking. He would be disappointed.

Leonie's steps faltered, as she was once again reminded of the reason for her excursion.

He would have_ been _disappointed.

"Why?" she muttered sadly, staring up into the gray clouds above. Heavy drops of rain struck her face, but she did not care. For a brief moment, Leonie considered to just let go, voicing her frustrations to the Goddess with a mighty, pained scream.

"It's not fair." was all she said, yet the soft murmur seemed to cut through the storm clearer than any yell ever could.

With a sigh, she resumed her solemn walk, heading down the narrow steps leading to the monastery's graveyard. The least she could do was pay her respects, something she had been postponing for far too long. Truthfully, Leonie did not know if she had it in her to face Jeralt one final time.

He had always been someone she considered invincible. The perfect example of a man and human being – strong, compassionate and righteous. Ever since the day he had saved her village, Leonie wanted to become just like him.

And now he was gone.

It was as though a part of her had been torn away, and she felt hollow inside. The future she once considered a certainty now seemed distant, slipping through her fingers. Each day since Jeralt's murder had tormented her, in an almost mocking way.

Leonie's boots sloshed as she made her way down the staircase, and she considered what she would say – which words would be worthy of her late mentor. A tiny, traitorous voice echoed in her head, and Leonie suddenly found herself at an impasse.

Would Jeralt even want to hear her, after the way she had treated his own son?

She shook her head. While her words may have been harsh, they still felt justified.

"Mother…"

Her eyes snapped up, and she noticed a shadowy figure hovering over one of the graves. The Goddess was not yet done taunting her, it seemed.

"Father…" the voice continued, only slightly muffled by the weather.

Against her better judgment, Leonie silently crouched down and hid behind the nearest mural. She had an idea of who the figure could be, and it was one she desperately wished to avoid lest her emotions get the better of her.

Professor Eisner knelt down, his silhouette now unmistakable, and placed a single flower by his father's tombstone.

"I'm sorry…"

Leonie was surprised to hear the emotionless voice cracking up toward the end.

"I'm sorry you had to die because of me."

The professor bowed, pressing his forehead against the cool, wet rock, and she found herself clenching her fists in indignation.

What was he saying?!

"I'm sorry that I could never be a normal child." he whispered; a hint of anguish seeping through.

Leonie had never seen the professor baring his emotions before. There was something about witnessing the cold, unfeeling man this way that was wrong. It was as though everything she knew about the world had been turned upside down, and it unsettled her greatly.

She thought she had the professor pegged down from the day she first lay eyes on him – an arrogant, uncaring young man, completely unaware of the sheer honor it was to be able to call Jeralt his father.

That impression was only further confirmed when Leonie struck up conversation with him, and he proceeded to give detached and almost nonchalant responses to her queries. Much like the pompous nobles born into money and power, the professor seemed to take his good fortune for granted.

And then, when Jeralt died, he had the nerve to keep going about his day as though nothing had happened. The thought alone was enough to enrage her all over again.

Leonie took a deep breath.

Now, in hindsight, she could see how his shoulders had been slumped - his usual poise rattled. Much like his current, glum demeanor, the professor had not quite been himself after losing his father.

"I'm sorry I could never… express myself. I just couldn't. I didn't know how."

Professor Eisner's voice had Leonie snapping back to reality, and her eyes widened at his words.

"Perhaps now…" he murmured, smiling wistfully as he looked up. "You were right, you know… the students… I'm glad we came here. They make me feel human."

"Like the family we could never be."

Stunned by his confession, Leonie barely noticed the professor standing back up. For once, fortune seemed to favor her, as he slowly made his way in the opposite direction.

For some reason, the tomboy felt an urge to wipe her eyes clean. They were stinging, but the rain made it difficult to tell why.

She approached Jeralt's grave with heavy steps. The uncertainty she had felt previously was dissipating, however, replaced with newfound fervor and determination. Her pride may have been shattered, but Leonie was not one to dwell on such petty, selfish matters.

She finally knew what to say, and what to do.

"Captain…" she spoke with reverence. "I'll look after him. I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 7: Parting**_

* * *

"Professor… Kill Edelgard at once."

While the archbishop's words did not surprise her, Edelgard was taken aback at the sheer vehemence behind them.

Ironically, her teacher seemed equally, if not more stunned. He glanced briefly at Rhea, as though uncertain of whether he had heard her correctly or not. The idea that he still cared for her brought a sliver of warmth to Edelgard's heart.

That was not to say that the professor had shown her much in the way of mercy. Just as she had expected him to, her teacher had opposed her and promptly engaged her in battle. In fact, she could not remember ever seeing him fight as fiercely as he had against her.

Was it because of her identity as the Flame Emperor? Was it because he had felt personally betrayed? Perhaps, she thought sadly, it was because she had been indirectly responsible for the death of Captain Eisner.

Regardless of his motives, the professor had torn through her forces with the wrath of a raging storm. Like a mighty wave of the ocean, the Sword of the Creator had crashed into her forces, sending them sprawling in every direction.

A shiver ran down Edelgard's spine at the comparison – she had never expected to be likening her teacher to the sea.

She had never expected to grow to fear him, just as she did those cold, murky depths.

And so, the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire looked up from where she knelt, forced to the ground of the Holy Tomb with a powerful wave of magic.

Edelgard was no fool, nor did she hold any grand, delusional notions of her future. Unlike many of her peers, she fully expected to have to lay down her life for her cause. Yet, this was not the end she had envisioned for herself.

To think that she would be executed at the hands of her teacher; the very hands that had once saved her from an untimely demise. And not only that, but before even having the chance to bring about her revolution.

She was a failure.

"Edelgard…"

The newly crowned emperor blinked, surprised to hear her name, rather than the sound of blade meeting flesh.

"My teacher…" she replied, meeting the professor's disappointed eyes. She was convinced of her cause, but the sight that greeted her would nevertheless wrench her heart.

She could endure the archbishop's murderous countenance. To some extent, she could even weather her teacher's disappointment. She would have preferred his support, but the idea that he would stand against her was one that Edelgard had prepared for.

To see her entire house, however – every single one of the Black Eagles and beyond – regarding her with varying degrees of disgust and disbelief, was nearly enough to make her break down in tears.

Even Bernadetta, the notoriously cowed member of her house, eyed her with nothing but distaste.

It was perhaps for that very reason that Edelgard welcomed Rhea's next, cruel decree. The archbishop seemed to have grown tired of her teacher's indecision, and at the very least, it would give her something to focus on; something to help regain her composure.

"She is a danger to all of Fódlan." stated Rhea; her usual serenity nowhere to be found. Her emerald eyes were alight with rage; the beast Edelgard knew resided within only moments away from rearing its ugly face.

"Such a rebellious heart cannot be allowed to keep beating."

The professor showed no reaction to Rhea's words, expect for a small inclination of his head. His hands tensed around the legendary sword, but if he had any intention of striking her down, it was well masked.

Edelgard slowly stood up, and at that, her teacher finally raised his weapon. His eyes never left hers, however, and he appeared to move at a deliberately slow pace.

When it finally sank in, she almost gasped.

He was stalling for time, doing his utmost to give her a way out. For better or for worse, the Ashen Demon never hesitated. For him to do so now – it had to be a ploy of some kind.

And a successful one, she thought in amazement, when Hubert suddenly materialized to her right.

Knowing that it was quite possibly the last time she would ever see him, Edelgard made sure to take in the professor's features down to the last detail. She could not help but notice how similar in appearance her teacher had become to the archbishop, and even Seteth and Flayn, who stood only a short distance away. For some reason that realization had eluded her, and now that she finally recognized the truth, she could have laughed.

Of course he would stand against her. It seemed she was a fool after all, for thinking anything different, even in her wildest dreams.

"I will withdraw, for now…" she announced, just as Hubert grasped hold of her arm. Before he could warp them both away to safety, however, a nearly inaudible whisper escaped her lips.

"Thank you, my teacher. For everything."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 8: Captivity**_

* * *

A roar echoed throughout the palace halls, and Edelgard held back a shudder.

"…"

She had thought capturing the archbishop would prove a point; that it would benefit her greatly to show the world the truth that had been hidden from them for so long.

Perhaps it still would. However, the constant unease in her stomach spoke to the contrary.

She warily approached the chamber where Rhea was being held, in the utmost depths of the Imperial Palace. They had taken every precaution to ensure that she could not transform or break out, but Edelgard still slept poorly at night knowing the monster that rested below.

Rhea had been greatly weakened in the battle at the monastery, but that did little to deter her from attempting to free herself. She twisted and snarled, tugging at her chains with enough force to create small cracks in the wall.

Edelgard took a step forward, ignoring Hubert's concerned objections. The dark-haired advisor had refused to let her out of his sight for the last month, and for the first time, she did not even bother to protest.

Immediately, Rhea's head snapped toward her, revealing slitted pupils and the most hateful expression she had ever seen. Not even her uncle showed such rage when speaking of the beasts he so detested.

The dozen-odd guards she had at only a moment's notice away did nothing to ease her worries.

"Your Majesty, perhaps we should attend to other… more pressing matters instead?"

Edelgard shook her head, dismissing Hubert's blatant bid to remove themselves from the archbishop's presence. Facing Rhea, not as a student, but as someone who openly opposed her ways, was something she needed to do.

This time, without her teacher to stand between them.

Rhea must have heard their exchange, because she let out a bark of laughter, completely different from her regular persona. With her tattered clothing and unkempt hair, she looked truly mad.

"You should listen to your servant, heathen." she spat. "It is only a matter of time before I escape these chains… and bring down the wrath of the goddess upon you."

She then tilted her chin upward, looking at both Edelgard and Hubert as though they were maggots to be crushed beneath her heel.

"There is no need for you or your goddess any longer. Soon, all of Fódlan will know the full extent of the church's lies."

Rhea tugged again at her chains; the cracks in the wall growing slightly larger.

"Foolish, ignorant girl! I shall delight in choking the life out of you."


	9. Chapter 9

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 9: Awakening**_

* * *

Sothis gasped.

Ever since that fateful moment in Zahras, she had been drowning in a deep, endless darkness. However, for some unfathomable reason, she could now break through its depths and reach for the flickering light in the distance.

Despite being aware of her true nature, the goddess of Fódlan had not once regretted relinquishing her power. What little remained of her spirit had experienced sadness at parting ways with Byleth so soon, and indeed even fear as she resigned herself to a helpless and lonely existence.

Yet, for all of her woes, Sothis did not feel regret. She could think of no one better suited to wield the power of a god, and with that thought in mind, she found the strength to meet her end in peace.

Luckily, fate appeared to have something entirely different planned out for her, and she would be damned if she let this chance slip by.

"That's it!" exclaimed the diminutive goddess, reaching ever closer to the light. "I don't know who or what you are, but get over here! The Beginning demands it!"

The light suddenly groaned.

"W-What? Is it morning already?" said a groggy voice. "Just... five more minutes. I'm sure..."

The achingly familiar voice was cut off by a large yawn, and her suspiscions were confirmed when she finally made out the sleeping figure in the center of the light.

"I'm sure..." he repeated, rolling over and burying his face in an invisible pillow. "...the students can wait a little longer."

"B-Byleth?" stammered Sothis, hardly believing what she was seeing. She had long since abandoned hope of speaking to him, let alone ever seeing him again.

Yet, here he was, in the flesh, even if consciousness still eluded him. When she experienced a sudden stab of indignation, Sothis burst out into laughter.

Byleth had not changed at all, be it in appearance or mannerisms. He was still the same little child who somehow managed to simultaneously fill her with joy and frustration. Even now, as he delivered her from a fate crueler than death, he would do so as nothing more than an incoherent, mumbling buffoon.

She sighed exasperatedly.

"You... How long do you intend to sleep?"

Sothis did not expect an answer, and ignored the subsequent muttering escaping Byleth's lips.

"Your body is awake. Your eyes must open now, and you must find the strength to stand upon those legs of yours."

She smiled wistfully, knowing that the world needed him even more than she did. It was strange, she figured, and more than a little ironic.

As Sothis regaled her charge with a suitably poetic and motivational speech, imploring him to abandon his slumber, she found herself experiencing a moment of hesitation. A shadow of regret, previously nowhere to be found, filled her mind.

A tiny, insignificant part of her wished that he could stay a short while longer.

"B-But... I'm still sleepy." whispered Byleth; his tone little more than a slur.

The goddess jolted at that, all shreds of melancholy leaving her at once, and her tiny hands grasped hold of his shoulders, turning him around and shaking him violently.

"You are a complete and utter fool!" she yelled, barely registering that her hands did not simply pass through him as they had before.

"Have you not changed one bit?!" she continued, all while shaking him back and forth with a surprising amount of strength.

"Huh? Wha-"

"Get on your feet. Right now! I will coddle you no more! You are just like a child, always needing me to hold your hand..."

A fleeting, traitorous thought told her that she would have it no other way.

When he finally opened his eyes, Sothis' heart skipped a beat, and she realized that he had indeed changed in appearance, if only slightly.

Byleth stared at her with bright, teal eyes, and she noticed that his hair was a shade lighter as well. What startled her most, however, was the intensity behind his gaze.

"Rhea?"

And just like that, darkness overcame her once more.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 10: Resolution**_

* * *

"Professor?"

Byleth hummed reservedly, revealing nothing of his intentions.

It was an undignified thing to do, but Rhea sighed, the smallest of pouts adorning her face. It was only recently that she had been strolling through the grounds of the monastery, drawing bittersweet enjoyment from the students' latest antics.

She sometimes wondered why she tortured herself so. Perhaps it was out of a sense of guilt or remorse, or perhaps it was due to the tiny, distant part of her heart that ached to feel whole once more.

Whatever the reason, she suddenly found little time to ponder such dreary thoughts. The Professor had managed to catch her off guard yet again, grasping hold of her delicate hand and leading her through the crowd of awkward, bumbling students - most of whom were tripping over themselves in their romantic endeavors.

As the pair rounded a corner, making their way across the courtyard, Rhea marvelled at how beautiful the flowers looked this time of year. She spotted violets and tulips; their petals glimmering beautifully in the sunlight, and smiled when she recognized a soft scent of primrose carried by the wind.

Her wrist stung.

For a brief moment, she wondered if Byleth had accidentally tighted his grip around her hand. She looked down, only to find unblemished skin held tenderly, like the most fragile porcelain, and shook her head.

Lifting her gaze, she met the back of the professor's head; his verdant hair the very same length and crop as when she had seen it last.

"Professor Eisner!" she tried again; this time with more emotion in her voice.

Byleth looked over his shoulder briefly, and if she did not know any better, Rhea could have sworn she spotted a smirk on his lips.

It was nearly enough to drive her insane, whether out of exasperation or something else, she did not know. However, with little in the way of options, Rhea resigned herself to being dragged around the monastery, no different from any other schoolgirl.

"We're almost there."

The words were spoken softly, but not enough to escape the archbishop's sharp ears.

When they first entered the monastery, and Byleth had led her up to the faculty floor, Rhea thought nothing of it. She had turned of her own accord, centuries of habit almost forcing her in the direction of the audience chamber.

It took only a gentle tug on her hand and she swayed back to the professor's side, following him as he kept on leading her up the stairs.

His intentions were suddenly becoming clearer, and with each step, her eyes grew wider.

Thankfully, Byleth did not witness her expression of shock and disbelief. Not even Seteth or Flayn dared set foot on the third floor of the monastery without her express permission.

Rhea felt her heart beating loudly and heavily in her chest; her mind dazed as she unsuccessfully sought to piece together the puzzle Byleth had laid out for her. For all that she wished to say, she feared any attempt would result in a pathetic croak or whimper at best.

Perhaps for the first time in her life, Rhea was lost for words.

Her boots, usually light enough that she could barely feel them around her feet, now seemed impossibly heavy. The pounding in her head became almost unbearable, and she thought her heart might actually burst.

Surely, he could not be planning anything like _that_.

Byleth tugged again, leading her away from her personal quarters and toward the balcony.

Rhea let out a tiny sound, barely audible from where it was caught by the lump in her throat. She hoped the professor had not noticed the nervous gulping that followed, nor the unwarranted shudder that ran down her body.

It was an odd sensation, not knowing whether it was her fears or her desires that had been dispelled.

Belatedly, she noticed they had come to a halt, and now stood stock-still at the edge of the balcony. Her hand suddenly felt a few degrees cooler, and the archbishop suppressed a frown at the absence of Byleth's comforting touch.

The man in question leaned forward, resting the palms of his hands against the balustrade.

"I believe this is where I first laid eyes on you."

"I- Yes..." she whispered; not yet recovered from such an abrupt turn of events.

Emerald eyes locked with her own, and a smile formed on the professor's face.

"Somehow, it seems like such a long time ago. I didn't know what to make of you back then. All I had to go on were my father's... less than flattering tales."

He chuckled at that; an action mirrored by Rhea even as she ignored the twinge of guilt at the mention of Jeralt. He had been right to be wary of her, after all.

The things she had done to Sitri, not to mention the very man standing next to her, were unforgivable. What was even worse, however, and what she hated herself for, was knowing that she would most likely have made the same choices all over again.

A thick, white cloud parted overhead, no longer shielding them from the sun's blinding light. Its rays bathed both Byleth and herself in warmth, and she could glean how the professor tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

"Now..." continued Byleth, blissfully unaware of Rhea's inner turmoil.

"I'm glad to have met you. A year ago I could not have spoken like this... or found pleasure in something as simple as sunlight."

He paused in consideration; his face scrunching ever so slightly as he struggled to find the proper words.

"The students make me feel human, but you..."

Byleth turned around, cupping both of her hands in his.

"You make me feel-"

Her wrists flamed, and Rhea screamed in agony.

It was nothing like before, and she was mercilessly torn out of her reverie; the only place where she could find any peace and solace in the cruel reality that made up her current life.

Tall, robed individuals loomed above her, laughing sinisterly at her despair.

She was suddenly made aware of the tight chains and cuffs restraining her, digging ever deeper into her skin. Her vision, once impeccable, now struggled to make out the details surrounding her.

Rhea screamed once more; an anguished wail, though not in pain but instead in anger and sorrow at her precious memory slipping just out of reach.

"You deserve this." spoke a low, growling voice.

One of her captors approached her, kneeling down to stare into her tear-stricken eyes. His face was pale, inhumanly so, and his features contorted with disgust and hatred.

"It is the fate of all beasts to be used and discarded, just as you have used countless other beings throughout the course of history."

Rhea could not find the strength needed to respond. Not even her mind provided sanctuary any longer, now threatening to rebel with each passing second.

Perhaps there was merit to the wicked man's words. Perhaps it would be best for all of Fódlan if she just died.

Yes, she thought. It must be so.

But if she would die, she would at least do so to a happy memory.

Rhea was back on the balcony, her prayers answered, and her hands cupped gently within Byleth's palms. She felt every wrinkle and callus as though it were real, and relished in the warmth that embraced her.

"You make me feel... alive." he murmured; staring at her passionately.

"Whenever you look at me, I feel happy."

He brought her hands to his face, pressing each of them to his cheeks.

"Your touch... it comforts me."

Byleth's eyes lit up in joy and adoration; the most genuine expression of love she had witnessed in all of her years.

"I can no longer imagine a world without you, Rhea."

"Then..." she replied, whispering.

A surge of strength coursed through her body, and Rhea let out a roar, giving her chains a mighty, vicious yank.

One of the bindings came loose, sending the now startled, pale man sprawling backward in fear.

"Then I shall live!"


	11. Chapter 11

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 11: Regret**_

* * *

Seteth was a rather sentimental man.

He knew that sentimentality was far from the first thing people would attribute to him, and yet, that made it no less true. Perhaps even to his detriment, he would often find himself lost in memories of a long forgotten age.

He would recall a time when the many peoples of Fódlan lived in peace and harmony - a time when his brethren walked both happily and openly alongside mankind. While his countenance betrayed nothing, the truth of the matter was that Seteth longed for the return of such days.

On certain occasions, however, his treacherous mind would wander even further. Sometimes, when he felt particularly daring, Seteth would allow himself to recall the beautiful face of his wife.

That was in fact the reason why he currently stalked the empty halls of Garreg Mach. It was one of the few places where he, much like Rhea, could feel some semblance of a connection to their fallen kin.

Seteth regretted his venture almost instantly; his body racked with pain and sadness at the sight of the devastated monastery. Only traces of its former glory remained, and most of it lay hidden beneath rubble and crumbled walls.

The bridge that led to the cathedral still stood tall, he noticed - a small comfort in an otherwise dreary day. The skies themselves wept, and he wondered if perhaps his dear mother also shared his sorrow.

As he approached the cathedral, Seteth heard the unmistakable sound of clashing steel. He hastened his steps, fearing the possibility that bandits or thieves had laid claim to his sacred home.

"Who goes there?!" he demanded, rushing inside the cathedral.

A lone figure stood by the now ravaged altar to the Goddess. It was a figure he was intimately familiar with, and one which he never expected to see again.

"Is that… It's you!"

Professor Eisner turned around, and as their gazes met, Seteth could have sworn it was his mother's eyes which graced him.

The moment quickly passed, however, and he went on to notice something else. The professor had never been a particularly expressive person, but even he had been known to show signs of emotion from time to time.

Even as he attempted a half-hearted smile and a small wave of recognition, Seteth saw nothing but misery and heartbreak written on his face.

"It's been a long time… hasn't it?"

That was most certainly an understatement. Five whole years had passed since the terrible battle that robbed him of both the professor and Rhea.

Were it not for Flayn, he may as well have been the last of his kind.

"Yes, it has been!" exclaimed Seteth; the words escaping his lips almost uncontrollably. "After you disappeared five years ago, do you have any idea how dire the church's situation became?"

Professor Eisner winced something fierce, causing him to regret his wording.

"I was… sleeping."

While there seemed to be more to that statement, Seteth chose to take it at face value. He was not sure if he could take much more of the emotions currently racing through his body, and neither would the professor benefit from scornful or derisive remarks.

"In that case, I suppose there is not much else to say." whispered Seteth, before bowing his head and staring into the cracked marble flooring.

"However, you should know that Rhea also disappeared five years ago. The knights have been fully devoted to searching for her, but… they have yet to find a single trace."

"Edelgard."

The name was spoken sharply; very much different from the professor's usual, tranquil monotone.

"It is a possibility." he began. "However, the Empire has yet to make any such-"

"Edelgard." the professor repeated, interrupting him. "She wielded the sword of Saint Seiros… Rhea's sword."

Before a shocked Seteth had time to inquire as to what he meant by that, Professor Eisner's somber expression gave way to something darker, and far more terrible.

He knew then that he was not dealing with the man he had grown to call his friend, but with a demon.

"The next time we meet… I will kill her."

Seteth did not doubt it, and almost came to pity the thieves they would later discover holding out in the ruins of the nearby town.

The professor was not in a forgivable mood.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Silver Snow**_

_**Chapter 12: Empathy**_

* * *

Bernadetta did not like the expression on the professor's face.

Strangely, her former classmates did not seem to pick up on her observation. Instead, they all huddled around him, chatting excitedly as they were finally reunited after five long years apart. They had gathered in the classroom of the Black Eagle House, and if she did not know any better, Bernadetta would have even believed it a happy and cheerful reunion.

However, she did know better, and she had seen that Professor Eisner's smile did not reach his eyes. Each time she met them, she winced, and quickly looked away.

It hurt to see the man she admired so consumed by anger and pain.

Perhaps that was what he had once seen in so many of his students, thought Bernadetta, and the reason why he always tried to brighten their day. She knew they had been a varied bunch, ranging from rowdy and irksome to troubled and melancholic. It could not have been easy to deal with them all, and yet, the professor never showed anything but patience and compassion.

Thankfully, deep down, he was still the same kind soul that she knew him to be. He must have realized that he was making her uncomfortable, because he eventually stopped looking at her altogether.

To his credit, the professor hid his feelings fairly well. Were it not for his vengeful eyes, no one would have believed the professor capable of the slaughter he had only recently committed. There was something about his silent rage that made it even more frightening than Lady Rhea's.

When he found out that the bandits had looted the Holy Mausoleum, however, his visage had turned downright terrifying. She trembled at the mere thought of it, and was overcome with an all-too-familiar urge.

She wanted to be inside her room.

The classroom was suddenly filled with laughter, and she figured someone must have made a joke. When Caspar clapped her back, and Petra grinned mischievously, she realized it must have been at her expense.

"Ganging up on old Bernie again, are we?" she muttered; ignoring the shiver running down her spine. "Some things never change…"

While her friends kept on laughing and prattling, Bernadetta did her best to rid herself of her dreary thoughts. She did not want to ruin the moment, and settled for staring vacantly at the floor instead.

After what seemed like an eternity, she came to a conclusion.

Bernadetta wanted her old professor back.

She could not stand to see him so miserable, and this time, she would be the one to make him happy, instead of the other way around. No matter how many platefuls of cake it took, she would be there to provide them for him. She would do anything to see him smile again, as he had all those years ago.

There and then, Bernadetta decided that she would make him proud of her once more.


End file.
